The ways of the wolf
by Redemption Moon
Summary: Yeah. Just plain sap or angst. It's the same thing to me. ::lol:: AyaxKen


**The ways of the wolf – Part 01 **

He woke up from another nightmare. Sweaty and breathing raggedly, he sat up slowly on the soft bed – still trying to half blink away the gritty pain and half to drive away those gruesome images the played around in his head like frolicking children.

His heart was pounding like mad, and as a result, his head throbbed with meticulous rhythm that almost drove him mad.

His teeth chattered, despite the sweat soaking his shirt and curling down his pale skin and he couldn't stop his hands from shaking.

This was the fear that threatened to drive him insane.

It was the fear that did not exist before – but ruled his life now.

The truth was, just several months ago, Ken Hidaka had nothing to fear. Indeed, he was, perhaps, the most irresponsible of the team, just ploughing through all the dangerous missions with reckless abandon. He rarely ever turned down any mission and welcomed the chance to get himself killed.

After all, he had nothing to live for. No more family, no friends, no home... he had no life. If he called Weiß his life... the way Yohji sometimes did while he was jesting... he saw no reason to live at all.

There was no life in murder and killing; he had always seen that even at the start of his career as Ken Hidaka, but he was desperate enough to grab at the straws and cling to anything to keep him from sinking.

People are like that. They clutch on to every blade and thread when they were supposed to let go, and give up just when they were supposed to stand strong. People were bovine in that way... and in a twisted way, it amused him.

Before long, he was starting to enjoy the nights out, the stalking, preying and killing. He loved the moment of the big rush when he'd spring out of the shadows and pounce on his victim the way the panther does on his prey.

It had become a game for him and that fact disgusted him.

That was when the desire to die grew more and more vicious.

Soon he wasn't even listening to orders, trying to sneak out on his own explorations and throwing himself in the line of fire, he couldn't believe his fortune – or misfortune, depending on how you look at it... so far , no fatal wound had threatened his life so dangerously yet.

Depression had sunk in more and more and soon, he was even trying to commit suicide. He had once tried to overdose on sleeping pills (a commodity that he frequently needed to avail of), but Aya had found him and brought him to the hospital. He was severely chastised afterwards and he pretended not to have intentionally done it. Surprisingly enough, the redhead seemed satisfied with that.

He tried drowning himself in the bath, but Aya walked in and roughly shoved him, soaked and choking, out of the tub.

Aya had been the one to find him when he had tried to slit his wrist twice and the redhead was more sullen than ever as he drove the half-dead Ken to the hospital, the brunette drifting in and out of consciousness enough to know that the redhead was cursing violently in the car.

He didn't know why Aya was always the one who found him – why Aya was always there when he was in his worst condition... at first he hated him for that... but then... as bizarre as it may sound... he started to do it just to be held in Aya's arms.

His wrist had become a horrid masterpiece of stripes and ugly serrations. All that time, Aya never raised his voice at him or even berated him like one would to an adult; not even to a child. Aya's eyes would just soften as he gazed at the battered Ken and he'd sweep the brunette in his strong arms and hold him close as precious lifeblood poured out of the open wound. He'd press his graceful fingers against the stream, so gently, the way a pianist plays a lullaby masterpiece.

After three more attempts, Aya would then sleep beside Ken's bed, like an overzealous dog, entering the room the moment Ken did, never letting him alone out of his sight. He even placed some of his personal effects in the same drawer that Ken did, his toothbrush and razor alongside Ken's, not aware of the intimacy the gesture presented. If one didn't know any better, one would have thought that they were roommates.

He'd sit at the uncomfortable wooden chair he had dragged out of the basement for hours on end, reading on of his thick books, squinting his gorgeous eyes at the dim gold lamplight as Ken tried to battle insomnia and the onslaught of dark thoughts.

A month had passed like that. Dawn after dawn, he'd wake up to see Aya sitting guard at his bedside, the book placed carefully face down on the bedside table, the delicate reading glasses on top of it.

Aya would be leaning against the wooden rest, head tilted gently to the side; his lips slightly parted letting out sweet breaths.

He didn't know when it was or how it began... but Ken had started to love him after that. He'd wake up in the middle of the wee hours of morning just watch Aya sleep, bathed in the dappling glow of the lamp.

The two blondes of the never said anything of this unusual routine, discreetly leaving the brunette and the redhead to their own devices. Likewise, they never said a thing at the hospital whenever he had his near-death experiences.

It was as if a secret consensus had been agreed on and no one bothered to tell him... but he didn't care.

All he cared about was Aya in that wooden chair night after night.

The attempts had halted the night Aya had started to stand guard. He no longer tried to put himself in needless danger during missions probably because he found that Aya was always assigned to be his partner on missions.

Slowly, he was somehow ... ceasing to hate life. He now had something to look forward to. Those quiet nights, the golden sunrises and the days when Aya would speak softly to him in quiet whispers, as if trying to keep the conversations a secret from the world.

He'd smile gently and laugh whenever Aya said something with a humor he never knew existed in the taller man.

Soon, they would sit side by side watching some movie or another.

Ken had grown to be comfortable around Aya, the way he had never been around anyone after all that betrayal.

Yes, he loved Aya. He had admitted that long ago... but Aya never seemed to notice the furtive glances he gave him nor the hidden smiles.

To Aya, Ken was probably just a nutcase- a nuisance if ever he died; strangely enough, Ken had already resigned himself to that... until the night that Aya finally confessed.

† † †

There was nothing unusual that night. He was in bed after brushing his teeth and changing into a thin shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Aya would watch him pad from the bathroom and carelessly throw himself on the bed like a little carefree child with that almost invisible smile that turned the corners of his lips. No one could have guessed that just a month or so ago, this handsome brunette, still in the last year of his teen-aged life, had attempted to commit suicide more than just a few times.

Ken snuggled under the thick covers and rested his chestnut head on the soft pillows, watching in child-like rapture as Aya read him two or three poems from a randomly selected poet or a short story. Tonight it was a rather long poem from Sir Walter Scott; his favorite poet. The poem was like an enchanting fairytale, with more beautiful words and phrases than prose; it drew him in and he listened with pure delight, not aware of the soft smile that it elicited from Aya's lips.

Since it was the first time he heard it, he insisted that Aya repeat the whole thing, to which the redhead obliged without comment.

In the middle of the third verse, Ken was sound asleep.

Aya let out a sigh and pulled up the thick covers with his unoccupied hand, his fingers brushing the golden-skin and the perfectly tanned face.

Ken had no idea...

He closed his eyes and leaned back against his chair, trying to efface the terror he always felt whenever Ken was sound asleep.

It was because...

Because Ken had tried to kill himself... more times than he could count. And him, lying so motionlessly like that reminded Aya of those times.

Was he that miserable ? Did the world seem so bleak to him that he found no reason to live ?

Every time he found Ken half-dead in his room, swimming in his own blood; his heart tried to pull itself into a thousand miniscule pieces. He was, after all, human; and God had treacherously cursed humans with the ability to love and hate.

He'd fight away the terror of losing Ken, and he'd blink away the tears that rose to his eyes unbidden.

He found himself loving Ken long before he even admitted it to himself. He had always been harsher to him, more stoic and unmovable because he knew that if he gave in for even just one single moment, all the glass walls he had built around himself would shatter and nothing would be left but his vulnerable self.

In retrospect, Ken had single-handedly trampled it the moment that they had met. It was just a matter of time that the whole thing collapsed... only he wasn't quite aware that his barrier had already been chipped.

But then...

Perhaps if he had shown Ken that he loved him, everything would have turned out differently. Those hideous scars on his wrist would perhaps not be there. Maybe it was he who was at fault after all...

" Why did you do all those things Ken ?" He whispered.

The tight-lipped façade he kept whenever he had to drive Ken to the hospital was now breaking, and he needed to spill his gut. " Why did you feel that you were all alone ? Is it my fault?"

Ken stirred in his sleep, his back faced towards him, possibly because Aya's voice was somehow disturbing him. But the truth was, he didn't care. All he wanted was to let Ken know even if he was too much of a coward to say it to his face.

" The truth is Ken, the reason why I was pushing you away was because I found myself loving you. I know it was cruel of me and I know that you may hate me for it... but I was only afraid... because loving you might break you. Everything I loved, everything I cared about- I always lost them. I don't want you to go away too..."

He hadn't realized that the glasses he held with his left hand had already been crushed; nor did he feel the pain of the glass shards digging into his skin, the beautiful crimson of his blood painting tattoos on his palm.

" Do you hear me Ken ? I love you." His words were floating in the air like a cool mist, he had said them so softly, so tenderly that it was almost a soundless whisper.

" I'm a coward too... Aya." Ken's motionless figure shot something out at him from the dark. " I was too afraid to hang on to life."

Slowly, Ken faced him, his soft lips twisting into a wistful smile. " You see, we have to things in common... our cowardice... and how we feel."

Aya leaned forward, his own alabaster face lighting up into a similar expression. "That's true." But this time, I'm not too afraid to do this.

Slowly, he brought his face closed until their lips touched in a tender kiss.

Aya didn't sleep on the damned chair that night. For the first time, there were two people under the thick covers.

† † †

The days went blissfully after that.

The Koneko no sumu ie seemed livelier and brighter than usual and there were more customers because of it.

The four handsome florists' popularity grew and soon orders from everywhere poured in. By contrast, night missions became less and less frequent almost to nonexistence... and it suited them all just fine.

On day offs they'd go and watch movies or at the park and Aya would stoically try to coerce him into playing one on one football even though Ken knew that he secretly hated playing the game.

They'd spend hours on end watching people pass by in the streets, making fictional stories for those who struck their fancy. Ken would laugh often those days, and it made Aya feel whole.

Aya was just a really nice guy in Ken's opinion. He'd rarely ever smile, much less laugh in public but his little gestures of intimacy always made his heart nearly burst with happiness.

Soon it was an established fact among the boys of the Koneko that the redhead and the brunette were engaged in a relationship.

There was no derisive comment, no harsh words, no disgusted gestures coming from the remaining two, only supportive voices and cheerful encouragements.

This was exactly what they wanted to happen. Of course, neither of the two blondes thought that it would actually occur, nor did they expect that a bond would be formed between Aya and Ken, but it was a fortunate surprise.

This was the cure to both of them that Yohji and Omi had been waiting for. Perhaps their world would become better because of it, and that was a great thing.

It seemed like the mission relapse was a temporary thing after all. Within two months the missions started pouring in. Night after night they were given missions that seemed impossible to accomplish without proper planning and caution.

Manx always looked apologetic whenever she came, perhaps it came with the knowledge of what kind of fear she gave them whenever she was there with another set of folders.

It didn't matter anyway. Just as long everyone survived, they were all happy.

In retrospect, it was an inevitable occurrence. Perhaps it really was fate.

But it happened on the night of July 03, the eve on Aya's birthday.

It started out fine, everything went as smoothly as most of their missions did and it was almost the end of the whole affair. Aya was on the move to finish off the target, Ken following closely at his heels while Yohji and Omi set up the explosives around the plant.

Their information said that the routine guards patrolled the whole complex three in a group and there was a total of 36 guards in addition to the boss and his two other personal aides. All thirty-six had been disposed of one way or another. What was left really is the target himself.

Three people was an easy job for two Weiß members, even if they were armed, Aya and Ken had stealth and the element of surprise on their side.

It looked like the big boss was making an inspection of the warehouse with his two assistants, the latter were making notes on identical black clipboards as the bright light above them illuminated almost every inch of the cramped space.

Stacks and stacks of wooden crate piled up like mini-towers and Aya and Ken decided to take the makeshift edifices to their advantage.

They were circling around the small group waiting for the perfect opportunity- and it had seemed like one too. They were far too busy with their discussion on opium economy to notice the two assassins getting ready to spring a trap.

But then, it was the intruders themselves who were in for the big surprise.

It was all too sudden. They had synchronized their attack perfectly, springing up from their hiding places with their weapons before them, ready to slash across a human being with terrible ferocity. They connected with the two aides, both crumpled to the ground at once without any protest.

Aya heard his codename being called, the distress and urgency in Ken's voice was all too apparent, followed by a loud gunshot.

He turned, his sword twisting in his hand as he made a wide arc, knowing that it would probably be too late and he'd be sprawled dead on the ground within a second, but all he could think of was Ken's safety.

Strange how things turned out.

Strange that it wasn't him who was hit by that bullet...

Stranger still was that he had killed the man he loved with the very sword he used to protects the lives of the innocent.

He gazed in quiet horror as the sharp blade of his katana sliced through the thick leather jacket through the thin cotton shirt and into that wonderful gold skin.

He heard the soft gurgle issuing from the brunette boy's lips as he slammed onto the floor and for a moment, Aya's instinct took over.

He had saved himself by killing the man who had shot Ken, Ken's beautiful blood mixing with that man's tainted sinfulness.

His breath came out in ragged gasps, his eyes wide open, his pulse racing as the adrenaline and fury rushed through his naked veins.

Only his training stopped him from tearing the corpse piece by piece with his bare hands.

The light was already fading from Ken's eyes even as he cradled that beautiful head in his arms.

He heard the clock toll midnight in the distance, and Ken attempted a feeble smile as he raised a frail hand to the alabaster face, tracing a gentle butterfly caress along the strong jaw. " Ha...ppy birthday... Aya ."

_Happy birthday Aya._

Ken was gone.

_Happy birthday Aya._

**Redemption Moon :** This is the first part of a probable two-part thing. This is to pacify people in line with my failure to post MiyS and to keep them from kicking my ass from deep shit to hell.

I hope you liked it.

Review.

It's gonna get sappier, I promise.


End file.
